MacColin of Glenderry

Lyrics

FOLLOW ME UP TO CARLOW

THE HOLY GROUND

The Brig O' Stirling

BEDLAM BOYS

For to see Mad Tom of Bedlam
Ten thousand miles I traveled
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes
For to save her shoes from gravel.

Still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys
Bedlam boys are bonny
For they all go bare and they live by the air
And they want no drink or money.

I went down to Satan's kitchen
For to get me food one morning
And there I got souls piping hot
All on the spit a-turning

My staff has murdered giants
My bag a long knife carries
For to cut mince pies from children's thighs
And feed them to the fairies

The spirits white as lightening
Would on me travels guide me
The stars would shake and the moon would quake
Whenever they espied me

And when that I'll be murdering
The Man in the Moon to the powder
His staff I'll break, his dog I'll shake
And there'll howl no demon louder

GENERAL TAYLOR

General Taylor gained the day
 silver spade,  shroud silk
 golden chain,  link we carve
 all the go, stormy winds dont blow
  dead and gone, long

The Minstrel Boy

The Soldier's Song

Mairi's Wedding

cho: Step we gaily, on we go
Heel for heel and toe for toe,
Arm in arm and row on row
All for Mairi's wedding.

Over hillways up and down
Myrtle green and bracken brown,
Past the sheiling through the town
All for sake of Mairi.

Red here Cheeks as rowans are
Bright her eyes as any star,
Fairest o' them all by far
Is our darlin' Mairi.

Plenty herring, plenty meal
Plenty peat to fill her creel,
Plenty bonny bairns as weel
That's the toast for Mairi.

Grat for Gruel

There was a weaver o' the north
And oh, but he was cruel;
The very first nicht that he got wed.
He sat and grat for gruel.
He widna wint his gruel,
He widna wint his gruel.
The very first nicht that he got wed.
He sat and grat for gruel.

There is nae a pot in a' the hoose
That I can mak' your gruel.
Oh, the washing pot it'll dae wi' me.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
I canna wint ma gruel.
Oh the washing pot it'll dae wi' me.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
There is nae a spoon in a' the hoose
That ye can sup your gruel.
Oh, the gairden spade it'll dae wi' me.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
I canna wint ma gruel.
The gairden spade it'll dae wi' me
For I mun hae ma gruel.

She gaed ben the hoose for cakes and wine,
She brocht them on a towel ;
Oh gae awa, gae awa, with your fol-de-rols.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
I canna wint ma gruel.
Oh gae awa, gae awa, with your fol-de-rols.
For I mun hae ma gruel.

Come all young lasses take my advice
And never marry a weaver;
The very first nicht that he got wed.
He sat and grat for gruel.
He widna wint his gruel.
He widna wint his gruel.
Oh, the very first nicht that he got wed,
He sat and he grat for gruel.

Farewell to Fiunary

The air is clear the day is fine, and swiftly swiftly flows the time
The boat is floating on the tide that wafts me off from Fiunary

(chorus)
We must up and and haste away, We must up and and haste away
We must up and and haste away, farewell, farewell tae Fiunary

A thousand thaousand tender ties awake this day my plaintive sighs
My heart within me almost dies, at thought of leaving Fiunary

ChorusBut I must leave those happy vales, see how they fill the spreading sails
Adeau, Adeau my native dales, farewell, fairvell tae Fiunary

Gun Runners

Buying powder fron the Dutch
Trading for our goods and such
Buying Spanish arms along the Main
Persuded by sailors from the West
An English ship, no doubt the best
But we'll make sure their efforts are in vain

(chorus)
Put our backs into it, lads,
We'll head into the wind
The English will be nay to use their sails
and we'll be safe on Irish lands
And put our guns in Irish hands
Long before they reach the coast of Wales

Across our bow the cannon fire
It only raises up our ire
Our archers fire arrows full of flame
A couple arrows hit their mark
Their mainsail's lighting up the dark
And now their ship is slowing down again

(chorus)

Their captain fights the fire on deck
But it's now use, their sails are spent
We'll leave the Englich bastards far behind
Their vessel's speed is such a farce
It should be called the "Leaden Arse"
Instead of being dubbed the "Golden Hind"

(chorus)
(chorus)

The Parish of Dunkeld

Oh, what a parish, a terrible parish.
Oh, what a parish is that of Dunkeld.
They hanged their minister, drowned their presenter,
dun downed the steeple and fuddled the bell.
he steeple was downed, bu the Kirk was sill sandin',
The bigit a lum where the bell used to hang.
A still po they got and they brewed Highland whisky
On Sundays they drank it and ranted and sang.

Oh, had you but seen how graceful they took it,
To see the crammed pews so socially joined.
MacDonald the piper stood up in the pulpit.
He made the pipes skirl, out came music divine.
With whisky and beer they would cures and they'd swear,
They's argue and fight your darn ya will tell.
Ah, but Georddie and Charlie they bothered Furellie
With whisky the worse than the devil himself.

When they high in spirits, had mounted their garrits,
To a fesh [feis] on the green they did all adjourn.
The maids with coats kilted, they skipped and lilted
When tired they shook hands and then hame to town.
If the Kirks all o'or Scotland held like social meetin's
Nay warnin' you'd need from a far tinkling bell.
For true love and friendship would drar you together
far better then roarin' the horrors of Hell.

I'LL TELL MY MA

cho: I'll tell my ma when I go home 
The boys won't leave the girls alone 
They pulled my hair and they stole my comb 
But that's alright 'til I go home.

She is handsome she is pretty 
She is the belle of Belfast City 
She is courting 1, 2, 3,
Please won't you tell me who is She?

Here she comes as white as snow 
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes 
Oh Johnny Murray he says she'll die 
If she doesn't get the fellow with the roving eye.

Let the wind and rain and the hail blow high 
And the snow come tumbling from the sky 
She's as nice as apple pie 
She'll get her own boy by and by.

When she gets a lad of her own 
She won't tell her ma 'til she comes home 
Let the boys stay as they will 
For it's Albert Mooney she loves still.